Lover For Hire
by Dan Sickles
Summary: Set in a corrupt modern city like Batman's Gotham or Frank Miller's SIN CITY, this is an AU Tudors saga about how strong, ambitious Elizabeth Tudor sets out to ensnare and ruin her innocent cousin, Mary Queen of Scots! Tons of crime, sin, sex, and intrigue to follow. Rated T!
1. Muscle For Hire

LOVER FOR HIRE

_This is my first AU Tudors fanfic. It's about how Queen Elizabeth plots to destroy Mary Queen of Scots. But it's set in a corrupt crime-filled modern city, like Gotham City in BATMAN or Basin City in Frank Miller's SIN CITY. Of course I do not own any of these characters, or fictional worlds!_

_Chapter One: Job Interview_

"So you're what a mob killer looks like." Elizabeth O'Hara leaned back in her expensive swivel chair, and gave Marco Maselli the kind of look you give the prize gorilla in a zoo. "Not the usual fat, bald, Tony Soprano type at any rate. Do you drink or use drugs?"

"I'm clean, Miss O'Hara. No parole violations, no drugs. I'm an orderly at the city hospital." Marco hated being an ex-con. He hated standing at attention in his puke-green scrubs in front of Red Lake's richest woman. Elizabeth O'Hara was nothing, he reminded himself. A piece of tail in a tailored suit.

The elegant red-head raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Your mob friends couldn't find you a better job? But you're happy where you are, I suppose. Emptying bedpans."

"They stink," Marco grunted. "So do you."

"I didn't murder a man for standing on a street corner."

"So you're feeling sorry for the other guy? Write his mother a check. Put her kids through college. Build another Boys' Club. It's easy to be generous with your kind of money."

"My kind of money?"

The dark, hard-muscled mobster leaned forward, resting his massive hands on Elizabeth's polished desk. "Your grandfather was boss around here back when Red Lake was still a wide-open town. Everyone knows how Redmond O'Hara built that fifty-room mansion you live in."

"My grandfather was a pig," Elizabeth sniffed. "He hated women and minorities."

"But you're different, huh? You went to college. You sit behind a desk. You're better than your grandfather. Only you can't _really_ hate him, because that would mean giving back all that dirty money. So you hate guys like me instead."

"You know nothing about my life, Mr. Maselli." The red-head gave him an icy glare. "As a matter of fact, I don't hate you. I've followed your case, and I admire the way you worked to turn your life around in prison. All that weight lifting, those college courses. Your certificate as a massage therapist. Now I'm giving you an opportunity to better yourself."

"I've heard that before," Marco growled, sinking into a chair. "Who do I have to kill this time?"

Elizabeth O'Hara handed him a manila folder. Inside were a collection of newspaper clippings and some photographs.

"Not bad," Marco rumbled. He wasn't about to admit that the sexy blonde with the goofy smile was exactly his type. She was playing tennis in one picture, riding a horse in another. Obviously loaded. Her eyes were soft green, not arctic blue.

"That is my cousin, Mary McCloud. She's just won a major corporate lawsuit to take over half my financial holdings, including the Red Lake Spa. Starting now, you are working at the spa as a massage therapist. When Mary takes over, you'll have ample opportunity to get close to her."

"You want me to make it look like an accident?"

"I want you to make it look like love."

END OF CHAPTER ONE

_A/N: Just to explain the TUDORS connection:_

_Elizabeth O'Hara = Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England_

_Mary McCloud = Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots_

_Marco Maselli = David Rizzio and/or Lord Darnley_

_Redmond O'Hara = Henry VIII_


	2. Call Me Mary

_Chapter Two: Call Me Mary_

"Well, I'll tell you this much, David. There are going to be some _big_ changes made around here." Mary McCloud snapped shut her cell phone just as the muscle-bound masseur walked into the room. Instantly her angry frown was replaced by the sweet smile she always wore around the little people, menial types such as servants and employees.

"You're late," the long-legged blonde chirped, turning over on her tummy so the man could get down to business. "Trying to make a bad impression on your new boss?" The way her green eyes twinkled as she peeped up at the man from beneath her long, golden lashes was meant to show him that she was a good sport. That she had a sense of humor.

That she wasn't an ogre like her cousin Elizabeth.

"Sorry," the big man grunted, lifting his mile-wide shoulders in a casual shrug. "I was checking in with my parole officer."

"Your parole officer?" Mary felt a flutter of fear, which she instantly fought and conquered. This man was her first test. "I didn't think Elizabeth O'Hara was the type to give people in trouble a second chance. Did my cousin hire you herself?"

"Yeah, she did." The muscle-man began preparing the tools of his trade, carefully arranging heated oils and soothing lotions on the tray beside the low, cushioned massage table. "But only after she knew you were taking over Red Lake Spa. I guess she figured you'd be too dumb to get rid of me!"

"Elizabeth always underestimates me," Mary said thoughtfully, watching the big man's enormous hands prepare the perfumed oils with surprising grace. "You won't make that mistake, will you? What's your name, anyway?"

"Marco Maselli," the man replied, vigorously rubbing his massive paws together to warm them before carefully opening a slender bottle of rose-scented oil.

"Ah, yes." Mary got the picture. Maselli was the name of a famous crime family in Red Lake. They practically ran the whole town before the cops crushed them. Elizabeth's grandfather, Redmond O'Hara, had done most of the crushing. Now, with the city cleaned up, Mary got why Marco had come to Elizabeth begging for a job. She sighed as the big man's warm hands began gently rubbing her shoulders.

"Look, Miss McCloud, if you want to fire me, no hard feelings. I know you've got a lot of changes you want to make."

"Yes, a lot of changes." Mary closed her eyes, thinking back to the early morning tour her cousin had arranged for her. Elizabeth O'Hara had put her mark on every inch of Red Lake Spa – everything was shining and bright, the décor all stone and glass and metal, as antiseptic as a hospital ward. "So cold," Mary murmured, speaking her thoughts out loud.

"Cold, Miss McCloud?" Marco stopped the soothing strokes of the massage. "If you're cold, I can go turn up the heat."

"No!" The half-naked woman on the massage table didn't even bother opening her eyes. "Keep going, please. And call me Mary."

"Right, boss." Marco smiled to himself as he went back to work. Elizabeth was right. So far "Mary" was turning out to be a real pushover. He was going to destroy her. But he wasn't going to underestimate her. He had too much to lose.


	3. Unsolved Mysteries

_Chapter Three: Unsolved Mysteries_

"All of our spas and salons are doing excellent business," Elizabeth was saying, "but some of our restaurants are in trouble. We need to cut expenses, starting with our suppliers. That's why I _recommend_ that the board _consider_ a switch from Gascony Farms to Emerald Diversified Foods."

"But we've always done business with Gascony Farms!" Mary McCloud exclaimed. The financial talk had nearly put her to sleep. Now her sea-green eyes flew wide open. "Everyone knows their milk is wholesome and their fruit is fresh. I remember picking apples there as a little girl."

The sensible, practical, profit-driven businessmen gathered around the boardroom table immediately burst into laughter. Mary's cheeks turned bright pink. Her first board meeting and already they were laughing at her! Why couldn't she focus on business, instead of daydreaming about that sexy new masseur at the health club?

Cousin Elizabeth tapped her pointer impatiently. "Numbers don't lie. Gascony has been going down hill for years. Emerald is nation-wide, not local, mom and pop. We need to reach out to them, maybe set up a meeting in the big city." The stunning redhead standing at the head of the table in a fitted gray suit hesitated for just a moment, her blue eyes cold as Arctic glaciers. "At least, I strongly _suggest_ that we _consider_ this course of action."

"And we will consider your suggestion carefully, Elizabeth." Mary wasn't good with numbers, but she was good with feelings. And it wasn't hard to put herself in Elizabeth's high heeled shoes. Her tall, strong-willed cousin was used to giving orders, not making suggestions. The long legal battle had left Mary in charge, but there were a lot of hard feelings.

"Gascony Farms used to be my favorite place as a child," golden-haired Mary sighed to herself, later that afternoon. She had just played a fast-paced game of tennis on the fancy private court at Red Lake Spa, and Marco Maselli was giving her a massage. The man had told her plenty about himself the other day. Yet now he was silent, totally focused on soothing her body's aches and pains with his skilled, strong hands. It felt good, _very_ good. But Mary wanted more.

"You grew up around here," she murmured all of a sudden, lifting her head to look at Marco and resisting the urge to cover herself with a towel. The man was a professional, after all. So far he showed no interest in her as a woman at all. "Have you ever been out to Gascony Farms?"

"A few years ago." Marco shrugged, his huge shoulders dipping slightly in a way that only emphasized their enormous power. "The truth is, boss, Red Lake has really gone downhill in the last few years. All of it has. Old Man O'Hara kept the dope dealers out, and the biker gangs. Back then no-one would have dared to open up a meth lab in this county. Now the farm country is crawling with them."

Mary frowned. "I thought you hated the O'Hara family."

"I do. But I have to make a living. And I'd rather be forced into giving back rubs than forced into cooking crystal meth."

"Is that what's going on out at Gascony Farms?"

Again that enigmatic shrug, drawing attention to that incredible body. "I don't know. You got to remember, boss, I'm on parole. These days I try to keep my nose clean."

"I'll bet you do." Mary smiled, and settled her head back on the cushions. Two unsolved mysteries tantalized her as she drifted off sleep. Mystery number one was what was going on at Gascony Farms. Mystery number two was how to get Marco Maselli to notice that his new boss was a woman.


	4. One on One

_Chapter Four: One on One_

"Check!" Marco launched the ball straight at the other guy's gut. But instead of passing it back, the skinny kid standing under the basketball hoop just stared at him.

"You want to play or not? Why in the fungool . . ." Marco's question was interrupted by female laughter and a soft voice.

"I'll take you on, big shot. Tyrone, why don't you and your two friends grab a couple of sodas from the break room? Tell the lady it's on me."

"Mother of God, you have got to be kidding me!" Marco's aggravation was just part of the act, part of the defensive shield he always built up against an opponent. Still, when he turned around to face the unexpected challenger there was a sharp stab in his gut that had nothing to do with anger.

Mary McCloud was smiling at him, wearing skimpy white shorts and dark green top that accented her emerald eyes. Her looks were pure princess, sweet, golden and innocent. But those green eyes struck sparks. Her invitation to play wasn't just part of the mating dance. It was a real challenge.

Marco didn't really like basketball. His game was football. When Mary slipped by him to score the first basket, he realized that he'd been set up. The rich girl wasn't just good. She was very good.

Of course, Marco had learned his basketball on the street, not in some fancy girls' academy. And there were ways of getting around all that grace and skill. But no matter how he crowded her, Mary kept coming back at him. It was like she was daring him to trip her up. He could use his shoulder to knock her down, or even put an elbow into her solar plexus.

Instead he began to back off. Not a lot, not enough to make it obvious. Just enough so it would stay a friendly game, and not turn into something raw and ugly.

"Nice game," he grunted, after Mary sank a perfect lay-up. Marco was panting, drenched in sweat. Mary was glowing.

"Buy you a drink, Maselli?" The rich girl's grin was infectious. "You didn't have to let me win, you know. I could have taken you even if you gave a hundred percent."

"Well, I guess we'll never know." Marco couldn't help giving her a smile in return. He'd given up trying hard years ago. But something about Mary tempted him to give his very best.

"You know," she told him, when they were relaxing on the terrace of a fancy rib joint overlooking the river, "I think there's something funny about this whole Gascony Farms business. Elizabeth seems desperate for us to cut all ties. Why break with people we've always used?"

"People change," Marco shrugged. "Businesses fail."

"But you don't just turn your back," Mary protested. "You don't just give up on people." She looked at him. "Do you?"

Again he felt that jab in his gut. Rich girls were supposed to be spoiled, stuck up. They weren't supposed to be fearless, unselfish. They weren't supposed to look at you like the long-dead goodness inside of you was all that mattered.

They were supposed to be all wrapped up in themselves.

"You were right about me," Marco finally said. "I'm still a crook, and I'm still connected to a lot of bad people. If you trust me, I can help you find out what's going on up at Gascony Farms. Why they're being pushed out of business."

"Ah," Mary said. There was a gleam in her eyes now, a knowing gleam, like she'd seen him giving in to her all along. "And what will it cost me?"

"I'm an old-fashioned Italian male," Marco said, looking right at her. "I don't like taking orders from a woman, and I don't like losing to a woman. So I'll help you out, but it'll cost you a rematch. Only next time we play my game, by my rules."

"Oh! Yes, I think we can arrange that." Mary tried to sound superior, and very knowing. But her cheeks were bright pink.


	5. Whatever It Takes

_Chapter Five: Whatever It Takes_

"You have got to be kidding me." Elizabeth O'Hara never smiled. But there were times when her arctic blue eyes took on a certain icy gleam. And this was definitely one of those times.

"Good morning to you too, boss." Marco Maselli winced as he swung the heavy stack of fresh, clean towels off the cart and onto the table in his training room. The big, tough Italian was bruised all over and covered with bandages.

"So I take it your first date with my cousin Mary was less than a complete success?" Like a cat toying with a mouse, the tall, red-haired woman moved closer, savoring the feeling of being completely in control.

"Mary didn't do this to me," Marco replied, reaching for the top button of his crisp Red Lake Spa uniform. "Really the pain's not so bad. I just need a massage, to loosen up the sore muscles."

"What are you doing?" Jarred by the unexpected move, Elizabeth began to edge backwards from the hulking Italian male. "You are NOT going to undress in my presence. How dare you? Have you lost your mind?"

With his chest already bare, Marco seemed to grow woozy, wobbling on his feet. "Gosh, I wish I hadn't taken all those painkillers last night after I left the Emergency Room. Those bikers . . and those wild dogs . . . oh, Marone!" Somehow he managed to fall face-down across the massage table, but not before stripping himself completely naked. "Could you pass me a towel, please?"

"This is not funny!" The powerful, take-charge woman hurled a towel at the Italian's hulking form, looking pale and almost panic-striken at all the male nudity in the room. Her fear was an odd contrast to her usual rigid self-control. "I hired you to make sure my cousin Mary was distracted from business. I want her pleasurably occupied in a way that will allow me to regain control of our family's vast business empire. I want _results_, damn it!"

"Swell," the big Italian grunted. "I want more money."

"More money for what?" Elizabeth demanded. "As far as I can tell, you and my cousin haven't even . . ." Suddenly there was a gentle tap on the door of the training room.

"Marco?" called a cheerful female voice.

"Hide," Marco grunted, without even opening his eyes. Elizabeth ducked into the closet at once.

"Marco, there you are!" Mary breezed into the room with a bright smile on her face, wearing a crisp snow white blouse and butter-colored cotton slacks. Clearly delighted to see the big masseur, she stopped only when she saw the bruises spread all across his muscular back. "Oh, no! I didn't think you were hurt that badly? Should I call someone?"

"It's nothing," Marco grumbled. "The bruises are just from getting thrown through the window by those bikers. A little snooze before the spa opens, that's all I need."

"That is not all you need!" Mary's soft green eyes threw sparks. Without a second's hesitation, she picked up a bottle of soothing ointment and began rubbing it vigorously over Marco's broad shoulders. "I don't blame you for being exhausted," she confided, in her soft and gentle voice. "After I left you at the hospital, I didn't get a wink of sleep either. The first thing I did was to make the sheriff and his people get all those poor abandoned dogs over to the animal hospital. I never realized before how many meth labs use pit bulls for security!"

"I never realized that either," Marco groaned, relaxing as Mary's gentle hands soothed the pain of his wounds. "I would never have taken you up there if I thought those clowns were going to fight back."

"Well, I'm glad you did," the gentle blonde assured him, her slim fingers digging deeper into his back. "I had a long talk with Mr. Gascony this morning. The poor man, he's just heartbroken by his son's downfall! All those tours in Afghanistan and Iraq just changed him. I guess some men never come back from the things they've seen."

"Yeah," Marco sighed. Mary's hands were putting him to sleep. "So you're going to get Gascony's son locked up for running a meth lab on the family farm?"

"Oh, no! I want to get him treatment! And of course find a home for all those poor damaged dogs. And I want to get the board to give me the money to buy Gascony Farms outright - and help poor Mr. Gascony get settled in Florida."

"Cost money," the big man muttered. "Stockholders, shareholders . . . they won't like it."

"But we have to help! Maybe if I approach them in the right way," Mary frowned, doubt on her delicate face.

"Business isn't about being nice," Marco told her. "You want to help people, fine. But sometimes you have to break the rules."

Mary giggled. "This sounds like the beginning of a lecture. Why not let me take you to dinner tonight? Then you can lecture me all you want."

"No." The tone of Marco's voice was brutal. "No dates."

"But why?" Mary's voice quivered a bit. "After last night, I thought you were on my side! The beating you took . . ."

"I don't like taking punishment," Marco said, lying still on the table. "I like giving it. I mean the kind where the other person wants it, and asks for it, and agrees to be tied up and have it done to them in advance."

"Oh." Mary's hands went still on his powerful back.

"Still want to date me, princess?"

"Well, I . . . I've never . . . I mean I haven't . . . I mean, let's have dinner and talk it over in a few days!"

"Yeah," Marco grunted. "Whatever. Have your people call my people."

"I will! I mean, dinner, I will, yes! And thank you for last night!" Mary squeaked and was out the door.

"You didn't have to scare her," Elizabeth said, in a dry tone, coming out of the closet. "Anyone could see the way her cheeks went pink when you talked about the bondage scene. Being submissive to a man is probably her secret fantasy." Elizabeth's cold blue eyes showed contempt and disdain.

"So how much do I get for making all her little girl fantasies come true?"

Elizabeth sighed, and threw him his crisp spa uniform. "Whatever it takes, Mr. Maselli. Whatever it takes."


	6. Under The Influence

_Chapter Six: Under The Influence_

"But he's not a thug!" Mary's slim crystal wine glass spilled a little as she set it down sharply on the table. In the hushed French restaurant her soft whisper seemed unusually shrill. "Marco Maselli got his head beaten in helping me get inside that meth lab and save those poor dogs. Would someone who was a thug at heart do that?"

Dark-eyed, boyishly handsome David Rizzio looked thoughtful as he sipped from his own glass. "Certainly the brute has shown he can take punishment. And he's clearly devoted to you. But how exactly did he know where the meth lab would be? And why did the bikers trust him enough to open the door? I get the impression your Mr. Maselli has a very unsavory past."

"Of course he does - but he's changed!" The beautiful blonde studied the wine in her glass with dreamy green eyes. "When we were alone, waiting outside that awful place, he told me how he killed that poor young man and was sent to prison. But he didn't want to do it - it was a matter of family honor!"

"The Maselli crime family is noted for many things, Mary - honor is not one of them. I'd guess the only thing the man really cares about is money. And if Elizabeth O'Hara didn't trust him, neither should you."

"Elizabeth doesn't trust anyone, Davy," Mary replied, with a light laugh. "Seriously, I'm certain there's good in Marco. And I'm not going to let you say nasty things about him. Not when you don't even know the man!"

"Still the fierce champion of the weak," David Rizzio smiled. "I remember how often you stuck up for me when we were children together. Now I do understand why the O'Hara family might have bullied the brute. I'm an Italian too, remember. But I never joined the mob, Mary. And I have a feeling that Marco made his decision to switch allegiance from Elizabeth to you on the basis of money, not honor."

Mary gave an unladylike snort. "Money, my foot! The man works as a masseur. He's wonderful, but I don't pay him half what he deserves. He's on parole and I know for a fact his apartment is a tiny place in a dreadful neighborhood!"

"If he really lives there," Davy said skeptically. "For all you know Elizabeth is bankrolling him and he's putting on an act to win your sympathy."

The green-eyed blonde literally shrieked with laughter. "For a gentle, loving person, Davy, you are positively paranoid! Would it make you happy if we drove to the bad part of town right now and saw Mr. Maselli's place?"

"Mary, I hardly think that's wise. Especially at this time of night!"

"Chicken," Mary giggled. "Seriously, we're not going to disturb the man. I just want you to see where he lives, and know that he's genuine in coming from a bad place. Unless you're too chicken to see how the other half lives?"

Her handsome, slender male escort flushed bright pink. "I am not chicken, I'm sensible!"

"Oh, Davy, do say yes. It'll be fun! Don't you want to try out my new Italian sports car?" Mary's sense of adventure was infectious.

David Rizzio insisted on driving, since Mary was on her third glass of wine. Having been raised and educated at her family's expense, the young classically trained musician felt deep loyalty to the beautiful heiress. Ever since they were kids together, she was the leader, and he was the follower. And their adventures were always slightly terrifying. Only David took deep pride in the fact that he was always their to protect his friend. Mary had been raised to see herself as a force for goodness in the world. She had courage, and so much kindness in her heart. Davy was the one with the common sense.

But for all his good sense and prudence, Davy was not very good at driving on American streets. He was fine on the highway, but as soon as they reached Red Lake's infamous South End, everything seemed to change. The streets were so narrow. There was a liquor store on every block, and scary looking boys standing around in groups. They played music that made Davy uncomfortable, so loud and sort of pulsating, with a kind of teasing rhythm. Mary liked it, she even swayed a little to the beat. But to Davy it only sounded scary and threatening.

"You passed it!" Mary shrilled. For all her careless daring, she seemed increasingly agitated as they drew closer to Marco Maselli's residence. "That was his apartment building back there, I'm sure of it. Turn around, Davy, turn around!"

"But this is a one way street!" Too late, Davy realized that Mary was right. He swerved to one side, hoping that he would be able to enter the parking lot from the alley. He made it by just a hair, but was unable to brake in time. Instead he smacked right into a parked car.

"There goes my paint job!" Mary laughed gaily. "When the police come, Davy, remember to tell them you were driving. I'm clearly under the influence."

"You can say that again," said a deep, angry male voice.

Poor Davy nearly jumped out of his skin. "Are you the police?" he asked, as the hulking male form drew nearer.

"Not hardly," the man growled. His huge body seemed to loom up out of the shadows, towering over the tiny red sports car.

"Hi Marco!" Mary sounded cheerful and quite unafraid.


End file.
